


big and little words

by stellahibernis



Series: an approximation of domesticity [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, softstuckyweek2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: Bucky: You better be eating now and not just say you will and then forgetBucky: I remember it happening before

  Steve takes his time with the sandwiches, smiling at the idea of Bucky reminding him to eat. Even if it’s done by texts and not by strategically placed notes these days, it’s still familiar, and comforting. He has countless memories of Bucky, from a small child to the man with a metal arm and sharp eyes, telling him to take care of himself, chiding him to eat and drink and stay warm. It’s a constant that never seems to change, and Steve always feels warm inside with the knowledge. 

***
Painting and epiphanies.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Soft Stucky Week 2016. This whole series is pretty much that, albeit this should work as a stand alone as well, like all of these.

Steve wakes up with an idea in his head, images overlaid on top of each other. It’s a pull, an itch at his fingers, one he doesn’t want to resist.

He’s distracted all through the breakfast, inside his own head and only half listening to Bucky’s commentary on the news that he’s reading on the tablet. He makes his way through the omelet and a cup of coffee mechanically, already considering the colors he wants to use, and the correct canvas size to realize his vision.

He surfaces when he notices the silence, that it’s been a while since Bucky stopped talking, and finds Bucky looking at him over the rim of his coffee mug, amused crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Steve gets up to clear the table and Bucky follows suit, the dishes soon in the washer, crumbs wiped off the table, the frying pan scrubbed and on the drying rack.

“Have a good day painting,” Bucky says, because of course he knows what has Steve preoccupied.

“Guess we’ll see after the fact,” Steve replies, because when something is driving him like this, the process isn’t always fun. It’s too much about a pull and a need to be easy, even if the process tends to be fast. “Are you heading out to the range?”

“Yep. Got to see whether Stark is justified in boasting about that new rifle design as much as he has.”

“Right, so you’ll definitely be having fun.”

“Even more if Barton is coming, I’m going to talk him into a shooting match,” Bucky grins.

“Sounds confident,” Steve says and smiles back. He’s got a hard time resisting Bucky’s smiles these days, so much rarer than they used to be.

“When it comes to rifles? I should be. I’ve got nothing on him when it comes to a bow, and it’s maybe an even game on handguns, but rifles? That’s my domain.”

Steve thinks he’s probably correct about that. He pulls Bucky in for a kiss, and it’s already been months, but he’s still thrilled about it, that this is now what they are.

“Try and be smart about it okay,” Bucky says. “At least remember to drink every once in a while.”

It’s a reasonable concern; Steve always has had a tendency to lose himself in the art and paint for hours at a time. These days it’s not as bad as it used to be; back before the serum it could take him days to fully recover. He goes to get his sports bottle and fills it with water, the covered container being a much better option than a glass. Back when he used mugs he tended to accidentally dip his brushes into his drinking water.

Steve is mixing his paints, trying to get to the precise shade of red he sees in his mind when Bucky pokes his head through the studio door and sets Steve’s phone on the side table.

“I’m going now.”

“Yeah, have fun,” Steve says distracted, already halfway absorbed.

“I’ll be back late afternoon probably. Remember to eat, I’m gonna check,” Bucky threatens, tapping his finger on Steve’s phone.

As the door closes Steve chooses the brush he wants, and starts painting. It’s a bright day, the light is excellent and the colors feel warm on the canvas. Soon enough he’s completely immersed in his work.

He surfaces from his concentration due to an annoying chirping, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s his phone. Bucky must have changed his text alert, to make sure he’ll react to it. Steve puts down his brush and palette, and looks at his work for several minutes, considering. The shapes are slowly coming into focus, and he likes the base color he has, knows it’ll shine through the other layers once he’s done. It’s a perfect time for a break actually, he’s at a point where he’ll need everything to dry before adding more layers. He’s made good progress over the morning, but the canvas he’s chosen is big, and he’ll need at least a few sessions to work on it.

His phone chirps again, and Steve picks up his bottle, realizing it’s empty. At least he’s managed to keep that particular promise. He takes his phone as he heads toward the kitchen. Unsurprisingly the messages are from Bucky.

_Today 12:30 PM_  
_Bucky: Totally handed barton his ass  
Bucky: Did you eat yet?_

_Today 12:38 PM  
_ _Bucky: Well?!?!_

Steve can practically see the annoyed face Bucky must have been making at the phone.

_Me: Im going to get something right now  
Me: Hows the new gun? _

Steve has just finished making his sandwiches and is refilling his bottle when Bucky’s reply comes in a string of texts. It means he was in the middle of something, because texting doesn’t take him that long.

_Today 12:52 PM_  
 _Bucky: Okay so far_  
 _Bucky: Needs a field test_  
 _Bucky: Not sure about the scope yet_  
 _Me: I bet thats breaking Tonys heart_  
_Bucky: You better be eating now and not just say you will and then forget  
Bucky: I remember it happening before_

Steve sends back a photo of his plate, and gets an image of a stack of pizza boxes in return. Apparently Clint got to choose what they were having for lunch.

He takes his sandwiches back to his studio, and sits down to again consider the painting on the easel. He’s managed to pin down the soul of it, he thinks, even if there’s still a lot to do. He thinks he might get another layer of paint on it over the afternoon, but the pressing need of the morning is gone now that he’s no longer worried in the back of his head that he’s going to lose it.

Steve takes his time with the sandwiches, smiling at the idea of Bucky reminding him to eat. Even if it’s done by texts and not by strategically placed notes these days, it’s still familiar, and comforting. It seems that however far they come, however much everything changes, some things stick. What they are to each other sticks. Steve knows that objectively he’s lost a lot in his life, and Bucky so much more, but this makes it at least bearable.

He has countless memories of Bucky, from a small child to the man with a metal arm and sharp eyes, telling him to take care of himself, chiding him to eat and drink and stay warm. It’s a constant that never seems to change, and Steve always feels warm inside with the knowledge.

It’s an epiphany of sorts, albeit one he thinks he’s always known but hasn’t really faced before; that whatever the words, there’s an underlying meaning that has been the same every time, over decades. Steve sets down his empty plate, because now that he lets himself think of it, it’s so huge it makes his hands shake. It’s why he never before really looked under the surface; it was too much to face that truth. Only now does he feel secure enough to truly look at it.

Now he’s secure enough to know that when Bucky told him not to do anything stupid, he meant, _I love you._

And of course Steve has known Bucky loves him, he’d be an idiot not to, but now he’s ready to admit that the love is _love,_ everything that the word carries. And it’s the same for him; he truly loves Bucky in return, in every way there is love someone, lasting and sure.

He ends up not painting any more that day, but he doesn’t leave the studio. He stays perched on the high stool, staring at his painting until he hears the door.

“Steve?” Bucky calls out.

“In here,” Steve calls back.

“Right, should have known you’re still painting. Did you manage to get your vision down?” Bucky asks as he comes closer and pauses at the door way.

Steve turns to look at him, and suddenly it’s overwhelming, the intensity of all the feelings he has for Bucky. He’s completely tongue tied and can only stare.

“Steve?” Bucky questions, frowning a little. “Is everything — ?”

Bucky pauses as Steve steps away from his stool and reaches a hand toward him, still unable to articulate what he wants. Bucky though has always had an instinctual understanding, so his expression clears and he steps closer, his boots heavy on the floor, and grabs a hold of Steve.

The kiss goes from zero to hundred in an instant, no finesse at all, just the raw need that presses Steve, and soon enough takes over Bucky too. Steve lets himself feel it all, lets himself be lost in the scrape of Bucky’s stubble on his lips, nips of teeth on his skin as Bucky moves down his neck. Bucky gets his hands at the hem of Steve’s shirt and breaks the kiss to lift it over his head only to seal his lips over Steve’s nipple as soon as it’s gone.

Steve’s abs contract under Bucky’s hands and it’s not enough, his head keeps asking for more, and he tumbles Bucky down on his back on the floor, surprising him based on the breathy laughter he lets out.

It’s probably Steve’s favorite thing about them; that they’re so comfortable now that Bucky laughs like that with him, when he still, even after years of living safe, mostly only lets out subdued chuckles.

Bucky makes a grab to pull Steve down over him, but Steve bats his hands away and quickly unfastens his belt and gets his fly open. Bucky is hard already, bulging in his underwear, and Steve pulls them down to his thighs with the combat trousers.

He immediately ducks down to take Bucky in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking him deeper, and Bucky curses and threads his hand in Steve’s hair. He doesn’t bother taking it slow at all, just sets almost brutally hard pace with his hand and mouth on Bucky’s cock, drawing out the moans and whispers that go straight in his head.

Steve might not be able to get drunk anymore, but he’s found something much better.

He’s relentless, and he doesn’t pause until Bucky is arching his back and coming into his mouth. Steve feels a bit smug about how boneless Bucky is on the floor afterward, panting and listless, but he still wants, needs really, more. He twists to the nearest shelf to grab the tube of lube, there because it’s not nearly the first time they’ve fucked in the studio. He gets out of his jeans and briefs, coats the fingers of his hand with lube and starts to finger himself open, grasping Bucky’s dick with the other hand.

Bucky breathes out a brief _oh,_ and lets his forearm fall off his eyes to peer at Steve. He keeps staring, just as Steve wants him to, as he makes a quick work on himself, Bucky’s cock filling again in his hand. Bucky rises up to kiss him deep, tongue thrusting in and out of Steve’s mouth in a way that makes him groan and decide he’s way past ready, and that Bucky is too.

He sinks on Bucky’s cock with one push, settling down on his hips and taking only a moment to adjust before rising up and sinking again. Steve doesn’t take it any slower than he did with his mouth earlier, just rides Bucky and chases after the climax. Bucky lays down on his back again and gets his feet planted to thrust up into Steve, hard and fast, and Steve is rapidly losing it. Bucky wraps his metal fingers around Steve’s cock, but it’s his voice that finally does it.

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky grits out, and Steve shudders and clenches and comes all over Bucky’s stomach.

He collapses on top of Bucky who thrusts a few more times and then comes too, relaxing under him.

For a moment Steve stays there, lying over Bucky, even if it’s not the most comfortable position for his knees. Now that the need is sated, he wants to bask in it, with Bucky’s hand threaded in his hair, the other lazily stroking his back. Still, they’re getting sticky and uncomfortable, and a shower starts to feel like a great idea even if it means moving, so Steve pushes himself up and off Bucky. He can’t help but laugh a little, lightheaded, because while he managed to get all the way naked except for one sock, Bucky still has all his clothes on, only pushed away from where Steve needed to get his hands and everything else at. He’s even got his combat boots on.

Bucky laughs too as he lets Steve pull him up and help him out of the clothes.

“That was quite the welcome home,” Bucky says, and Steve can tell he knows it was more than just that, and that he also knows Steve’s not ready to voice the things in his mind yet.

When he too is naked Bucky presses a kiss on Steve’s collarbone and drags him into shower, only to push him against the tiles under the spray, hand on his cock and kissing him until Steve’s head spins.

They eat steaks with fries and roasted vegetables on the couch wearing the most comfortable threadbare clothes they have, and it’s a perfect ending to a very good day.

The best thing though is that Steve knows with certainty that there are many more days like this to come.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/).


End file.
